


The Dead of Knight

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: A Foundation For Law and Government Case goes horribly awry. Will the agents be able to close the case before one or all of the staff and crew are killed? Or will this be the Foundation's final adventure? Stay tuned to find out.





	1. A Frantic Plea

Bonnie clutched the phone with her shaking and blood covered fingers. "Michael.... code red....." she hoarsely grumbled into the receiver before the line fell into a series of beeping sounds and then the numbing sound of static arose. The influx of sound was so fierce that it seemed to wash away all memory of the voice that had frantically called out only moments before.

A garbled sound of crying and of screams could be heard just faintly above the incredible staticky roar.

Michael's breath eased over his lips with a ragged and desperate kind of sound, the kind of sound a ballon would make as it is deflated by a small puncture in it's plastic skin. His skin cold and clammy as he forced himself to sit up and awaken from the heavy fog of slumber.

"Bons?" He questioned with a slight groan. His eyes widening with more concern as a series of thunderous pops crackle over the annoying numb static. His very blood seemed to go cold as he realized what the sound must have been.

"Kitt!!! Pal, we've got gunfire at the Foundation's main building. We need to roll and fast!!" Michael shouted into his com-link. Inwardly. he couldn't help by try and prepare himself for whatever horror might await their arrival.


	2. Startling Discoveries and Suspicions: Marcus Sangler

"Bons?" Michael called out over the phone in desperation. But to his dismay the only answer he received came from another roar of static, this sound too was fading fast.

The annoying roar suddenly vanished into a complete silence. The line was dead and not able to be revived.

Michael shot out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could. By the time he was throwing on his jacket, Kitt was waiting outside the front door. His red scanner peeling from side to side anxiously and he remarked, "Michael, do you think everyone is alright? I have a more pertinent question...." Kitt continued.

"What is that, Pal?" Michael curiously prompted. He couldn't see how any question could possibly be more important than the safety of everyone involved.

"What was everyone doing at the Foundation at this time of night? Shouldn't everyone have been in bed?" Kitt inquired.

"You have a point there...pal. If... I mean... when we get there we can ask them ourselves....." Michael answered. Inwardly he thought, if we get there in time to find anyone alive — that is. He had this sudden nagging fear that Bonnie and the others would be soaked in pools of their own blood. Michael could practically swear he heard faint screaming ringing through his ears as he let Kitt drive towards the Foundation.

He knew he should have been on the premises... and he would have been too had Devon not sent him on a mission earlier that day. The ex-cop tried to think of as many of the Foundation's enemies, who still had a score to settle as he could think of. He then started to revise the list by recalling those who were either in jail, dead, or among the few who did not carry guns. It wasn't much, but it was something he could do while trying to pass the time on the drive to the Foundation. At least it gave him a sense of purpose. He couldn't contemplate life without the Foundation and without Bonnie, Devon, and without Kitt.

He couldn't sit still and his expression clearly mirrored the terror ebbing in his soul.

Kitt wished he could do something to make it better, the drive would take at least another hour even at his top speed. "Michael, might I be able to interest you in some music?"

"No... no thanks, Pal," Michael breathed, letting out a ragged sigh. He sank squarely into his seat and continued to anxiously tapped a terrible rhythm on the wheel. 

"I could play some of that noisy music you like," Kitt once more offered. He dreaded observing his driver acting so antsy and concerned. 

"No, buddy. I don't want any music right now. Get me everything you can on the Foundation's enemies and pick out those with criminal histories involving guns and violence.... and..." he swallowed shallowly before continuing, "records for murder."

"Right away, Michael," Kitt obediently answered.

"Kitt, expand your search to those recently released for murder, violence, and or gun related offenses," Michael added after a few minutes of quiet contemplation. 

"As you wish, Michael," Kitt remarked. "I have a question, Michael. Why are we expanding the search to include murders and felons?" Kitt further quizzed. There was a hint of concern in his vocal request for knowledge.

"You don't think....." Kitt started to ask.

Michael sat up and after clearing his throat he answered, "I do think it, Pal. That is why I asked. Now do you have a list or not?" He returned questioningly, running a hand through his hair furiously.

A series of mechanical beeps and a list scrolled across the the screens in front of him. His blue eyes tiredly focused on the words, studying them intently for the right names to jump out at him. 

His blood seemed to grow cold as Kitt mentioned several names. Teeth ground one upon the other and his jaw muscles clenched furiously. He had no idea who was responsible for Bonnie's frantic call and that made things a trillion times worse.

What would they find when they pulled up at the Foundation's main offices? Would there be a heap of bodies, pools of blood, or even hostages? No..... hostages required someone making phone calls and threatening to kill them.... or that was the case most of the time. Wasn't it? Would there be anyone left alive? Would there be important files, papers, technology, or even documents stolen?

"Marcus Sangler.... he is wanted for eight counts of murder, attempted robbery, and six counts of battery," Kitt drew Michael's attention to the tedious task ahead of them.

"Marcus Sangler is supposed to be serving two consecutive life sentences," Michael interjected without giving the situation much more thought.

A sorrowful swoosh rose as Kitt's scanner peeled back and forth, "Michael? It appears the police have just put out an escaped prisoner alert for Sangler and three of his head henchman. Didn't we put them away last year? And wasn't Sangler the one posing as Bonnie's boyfriend?"

Michael leaned backwards, his hands folded prayerfully before his face as he tried to recall the case. His blue-eyes lit up as recalled details and how the man had knowingly endangered his favorite mechanic. "Kitt, if that is who I think it is, might I suggest we find Bonnie as soon as possible?" Michael demanded with a low growl.

"I'm traveling as fast as I can Michael," Kitt confessed.

Michael dipped his head forward and breathed, "I know, pal. I know. I'm sorry I'm just concerned...."

"I know you are, Michael. Bonnie and Devon know how to protect themselves...." Kitt reassured his driver to the best of his ability. He too had his doubts..... though he'd never vocalize them.

They couldn't be sure it was Marcus Sangler, not yet, anyways. Just because the brute and his henchmen escaped from a near by prison and had dealt with the Foundation's staff before..... that didn't mean he was going after them again, or did it?

If he was, Kitt was certain that there would be a great deal of trouble before the matter happened to be resolved.


	3. Echoing Rumbles of Terror

The Foundation's driveway slowly came into view, the electrical front gate hung wide open granting access to anyone and everyone who had a mind to move past them.

Kitt's tires came to a quiet but subtle stop outside the door that was perilously swinging open and shut in the harsh breeze.

"Do me a favor, Pal... keep your scanners peeled," Michael ordered as he hurried out of the cabin and up the stairs of the Foundation's main house.

"Yes, Michael," Kitt answered.

Glass littered the ground from the shattered door pane. It crumbled with an unsettling twinkle under the soles of Michael's boots. Michael pulled out his small handgun, which was loaded and ready to fire. He could feel his heart beating furiously inside of his chest as he slipped further and further into the somewhat dark building. Using his com-link Michael questioned, "Kitt? Do you know where Bonnie and Devon were or are?"

"I'm scanning four bodies in Mr. Mile's office....and Michael.... one of them is not breathing.... three of them seem to be non-fatal injuries. Michael? I don't know if this is important.... but Miss Barstow is not among them," Kitt assessed.

Michael inwardly cursed as bolted up the stairs. The closer he got to his boss's door the greater evidence of a disturbance became. There were bullet holes, empty casings, scarlet stains, scattered paper, splinters of a fallen door and more. He sucked in a deep breath, while he was grateful that Bonnie had not been among the four individuals in Devon's office, he worried that she was in greater danger still. But Michael had an obligation, a duty to check on the four inside of Devon's office.... then he could go after Bonnie and anyone else who was missing.

Michael held his breath as he crossed over the threshold, where the splintered door used to hang. He wasn't certain what he'd find within the room other than a lifeless form and three other injured individuals. His blue eyes scanned the room and he let out a small gasp. He rushed across the room and knelt beside the bloodied and lifeless form of a secretary who had taken a few bullets in the chest. His fingers found their way to her throat searching for a pulse and they lingered there for a few moments. It was useless. She was covered in blood and her skin was turning a deep ashen grey. The woman was regrettably past revival.

He then turned his attention to the three live individuals. "Oh Michael, thank heaves," came a heavy british accent as a salt and pepper shaded hair approached the ex-cop.

"Devon, thank God! What happened here?!" Michael demanded turning to face and assist his well-respected boss.

"We had a violent break in, what does it look like ol' boy?" Devon questioned incredulously.

Michael internally rolled his eyes and almost glowered at his boss. He felt like saying "no da. Instead, he settled for asking, "are yah okay?"

"I dare say I'm as fine as I could be though I must admit I have a dash of a headache from when the bloody escaped convict smashed me over the head. But never mind me, tend to the two other secretaries are hurt," Mr. Miles replied, directing Michael to them.

When Michael had seen to their scratches and minor injuries his attention once more turned to figuring out the events that had unfolded around the Foundation's headquarters.

"Devon? Where is Bonnie? Is she okay?" Michael prompted, once more realizing that his favorite mechanic wasn't around. His blue-eyes scanned the room as he struggled to remain patient for an answer.

Devon drew his sweaty palms down the chests of his suit, he seemed to be trying to recollect everything that had happened. His memory seemed foggy but not all together incomplete, so Michael decided to stick around for a few moments.

"I don't know where Miss Barstow is now that I think about it. She was with me when I was knocked out but she isn't here Michael. You don't think the gunman took her? Do you ol'boy?" Devon replied half-questioningly.

Michael could feel his shoulders tensing as he drew himself up to his full height. His hands found his hips as he tried to contemplate the number of things that could have happened to her from the time Devon had been knocked out until now. With a sigh he had to confess that it was possible that their advanced mechanic and technician had been abducted, injured, or even killed by the gunman.

"Where was she the last time you saw her?" Michael questioned.

Devon replied,"She was at the phone making a call. I presume it was to you and Kitt. Was it not?"

"Yes, we got a call but the line was cut short. All we heard was Bonnie's voice, a few screams, and a heap of static....then silence."

"Do you know if the gunman was Marcus Sangler?" Michael question.

Devon's eyes twinkled dangerously and he remarked, "the felon that we put away sometime last year? The one that was Bonnie's old boyfriend?"

"Yes, that is the one. Marcus and his henchman just broke out of jail, the four points bulletins posted by both the state and local police," Michael admitted softly. He didn't like alarming Devon like this, but provided that it was a possibility, that Bonnie had been taken by the dangerous group they'd have to prepare for the worst.

"If he is the one who shot up my office and employees, then I really don't have to tell you how vital it is that we stop him, do I?!" Devon sternly added.

Michael casually approached the phone, which Bonnie supposedly had been using when she tried to contact him. The curly haired F.L.A.G. agent winced as he crouched down beside the fallen communication device. It was covered in blood.

Whose blood was it? Was it Bonnie's? If so....was Bonnie hurt, injured, or even dying? He could feel his jaw muscles twitching as his teeth harshly clenched. He raced into the hall and yelled, "BONNIE? BONN? WHERE ARE YOU?" But there was no answer to confirm that she was alive or even on the Foundation grounds.

"Kitt, if anyone moves to leave let me know.... and Pal, they might have Bonnie," he breathed heavily into his com-link.


	4. In the Clutches of Danger

Scarlet drops slipped to the ground in staining pools as she drew away from the crashed mirror.

Not more than fifteen minutes ago, Bonnie's captor had pushed her violently into a full-sized mirror. Tiny shards of metallic glass were embedded between sticky patches of blood matted hair upon her forehead and some shards even clung to her scarlet covered arms. She hadn't even known what hit her until it was far too late to react.

She made an attempt to call after she tried to lend aid to another secretary that had been shot, but the phone lines had been severed and the call dropped.

Bonnie put up a valiant fight, digging her heels into the carpet of the Foundation's lower floor, forcing the men to drag her all the way. "You can't and won't get away with this!" She snapped viciously, her breaths coming in heavy frantic pants as she fought.

"Just pick her up and throw her over your shoulder," Marcus Sangler growled, impatiently. "I have a feeling our little friend, Michael Knight has been alerted. We need to get the files, get our bargaining chip out of here, and escape before he arrives. Got it?!" He clutched the file tightly in his fingers as though it were a grand prize that could not, under any circumstances, be lost.

"NOOOO! NOOOOOO!! NOOO!! Put me down you over-sized ape!!" Bonnie demanded, as she was thrown over the more muscular man's shoulder and carried in the most uncomfortable and undignified of fashions. Her butt lifted into the air, her legs and feet dangling on one side, and her face practically planted into the man's strong back.

"You'll be sorry when Michael Knight comes after you!!" She shouted. Her bloody fists wailing on the man as hard as she dared to drive them into his back. The sharp shards of glass delved deeper into the already scratched up skin. This caused her to let out a low whimper and she drew her hands towards her chest as far as she could.

The brunette mechanic was then lowered from the man's shoulder and thrown into a car, an old black one, which lurched into motion just as the last man's foot left the ground. The driver had been anticipating a need for a quick get away and so he they did not linger a minute longer then they had to around the scene of the crime.

Looking at her captor the sudden realization swept over her face. Her blue-green eyes widened significantly and she sputtered in surprise "Marcus?" At one point in time, she felt that he was the one she'd eventually marry and have a family with. He had betrayed her trust by portraying himself as being a kind and generous man. All the while he had been a vicious felon, wanting to make a profit off of information and technology he could steal from her garage.

"It's been what? A year since the Foundation helped put you away," Bonnie snarled defensively. She had never really confronted him after she found out his true identity and nature.

"A year and five days to be exact," he coldly remarked. His light green and brown eyes shimmering with excitement as he studied her.

With a smug grin he added, "you look as... beautiful as ever. When we get to my place I will have my maid draw you a bath and we'll get you stitches for your forehead and arms. Then I will let you know what we plan on doing with you."

Bonnie let out a staggering sigh as she tried to remain calm. She was seated between his two oversized goons and she wasn't feeling entirely comfortable with the cold-blooded killer's offers. The mechanic would have much rather been left behind.

"Why me? Why did you have to extract me from the Foundation, Marcus?" Bonnie demanded, leaning forward in her seat. She wanted to look him square in the eye as she questioned him.

"Because I needed you. You helped put me away... but that isn't the most important thing right now. I need your help, Miss Barstow. And unlike my marriage proposal, I will not take no for an answer. You have absolutely no choice. You are going to help me or you will die," he added, leaning forward towards her and wiping the brunette locks from her opened cuts. He used a pocket knife to carefully remove a shallow piece of glass caught between her brows.

Bonnie gasped and drew backwards as a wave of blood washed down her nose. Her hands and fingers trembled as they accepted a clean rag that Marcus handed to her. She could not be certain that it was not poisoned or tainted with drugs, but she couldn't refuse the ability to clean herself up.

"At least none of the scratches are deep enough to scar, my pet," Marcus added in a tone of mock sincerity. With a huff he added, "for what it is worth, Bonnie, I really did and still do love you." He brought his hand to rest upon her bloodied cheek and he allowed his thumb to stroke gingerly across the smooth surface.

Bonnie's lips pursed into a dark frown and she fought back the urge to tell him exactly what she thought about him and his goons. She shook her head in an attempt to free herself of his unwelcome touch.

"And just what am I supposed to help you with?" Bonnie curtly spat, intrigued and gripped with an unrelenting sense of curiosity.

"I can not tell you about it now.... not until I am sure you will help me!" He remarked cryptically.

The brunette stiffened in her seat, "what in the heck is that supposed to mean? How do you plan on securing my compliance in such a plan?! You know I'll never trust or work with you... not since I found out what a low life you are," Bonnie demanded.

"We've got mind control drugs," remarked one of the dimmer witted henchman.

Bonnie's facial reaction could only be described as a sudden paling and then turning green of the skin.

Marcus kicked his goon in the shin for being so forward with the reply."Rest assured, Miss Barstow, we have our ways of forcing compliance. Even on women as pretty as you....."

At his sudden leer Bonnie found herself shivering. If only she could dismiss the sense of dread that loomed over her forehead, perhaps, she could formulate and implement a feasible escape plan.

But how could she escape? There were three men in the back of the car with her. She was stuck for now... but did that mean she would never escape? Who knows? Bonnie fiddled with her com-link, but her eyes narrowed realizing that the shove into the mirror had cracked and destroyed most of the functioning parts. But did it destroy the gps locator? If so, how would Michael and Kitt find her? Would they even find her at all? Those became her most important questions now. Only time would provide the answers she so desperately yearned to have.


End file.
